As we left Saturday’s all-call recital practice, the clouds and rain saddened me a bit. As excited as I was to have a little girl- my little girl- prepping to perform her jazz routine on stage, I was overwhelmed with thoughts of my grandmother. It’s been almost a year since she passed away and this- the shows, the music, the singing and dancing and glamorous makeup and femininity at its best- it all reminded me of her. She wasn’t a dancer, but I loved those elementary years she’d come and watch me dance at the Orpheum Theater. I think I was in high school when we went to our last musical together, Oklahoma!, at the Omaha Community Playhouse.
Franki’s class is dancing to “We Go Together” from Grease. With each hand jive, I’m longing for one of Grandma’s stories about those days of yore. I sighed heavy as we splashed through the puddles to our car, thinking about Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds and sleepovers at grandma’s house. I wished Grandma could see her great grand daughter dance. I wished she could share in this joy with me.
Then… everything calmed. The rain paused. The birds silenced. Still deep in thought, I looked down at my daughter as she looked up at me, stage makeup grin, umbrella propped against her shoulder, spinning, spinning…begging to dance and sing in the rain…
… and I knew Grandma was there, right then, in that moment. In case I forgot to tell you, Franki, she was with us that day.